


You Fuck So Good I'm on Top of It

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porny porny porn porn. Seriously, it's 1200 words of full-on sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Fuck So Good I'm on Top of It

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into English available: [You Fuck So Good I'm on Top of It (Chinese Translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475149) by [lzqsk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzqsk/pseuds/lzqsk)



> This is possibly the filthiest thing I have ever written. You're welcome.

He pushes Barton against the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of him, fingers digging into Barton’s biceps as Phil breathes heavy and watches the way Barton smirks at him.

“Problem, Sir?”

“Do you ever listen to orders?” Phil asks. He feels Barton breathe under him, easy like Phil’s not putting his weight in to hold him in place, and Phil wants to slap that smirk off his face.

“Followed orders just fine,” Barton says, voice lower than it was a few seconds ago. “You said shoot, I shot.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh?” All innocence. Complete, bullshit innocence.

Phil gives in, adjusts his grip so his nails are digging in. Barton doesn’t wince. He cants his hips forward just a fraction, enough Phil knows he’s reacting, even if Phil can’t feel it through Barton’s Kevlar-lined cup. “I said shoot and get back. You didn’t get back.”

“I did so.”

“Not within parameters.”

“Five seconds—”

“There were shots fired, Barton, and you didn’t get on comm, and you were five seconds late.” Phil nods when Barton’s smirk drops off his face. “Exactly.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I give you orders so you don’t die, Barton.”

And then Clint’s kissing him, arms wrenching free from Phil’s nail-digging grasp to cradle his head as Clint kisses him hard and slow, his warm, warm mouth open slightly on Phil’s bottom lip. Phil opens his mouth in response, and Clint slides his tongue in, rakes it across the edge of Phil’s top teeth, and sighs into Phil’s mouth.

“Goddamnit,” Phil mumbles as he pulls away, “You can’t just—”

“You’re the one who pushed me against the wall,” Clint says. He slides his hands into Phil’s suit jacket, clutches his sides, and now it’s Phil’s turn to be pushed against the wall, Phil’s turn to get weight pressed against him, chest to thigh.

“I was going to hit you for being an idiot.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Phil considers taking a swing just to prove him wrong, but Clint drops to his knees, unbuttons Phil’s slacks with a flick of his thumb, and undoes the zip with his teeth. “Fuck,” Phil hisses, pressing out with his hips and cupping the back of Clint’s head. Clint looks up, the zipper tab still between his teeth, and then he presses his face to Phil’s crotch. “Fuck,” Phil repeats because it’s the only thing he can say as he tries not to come.

Clint pulls away, yanks down Phil’s boxers, and sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, moaning in the back of his throat when Phil pulls his hair and holds him still so he can fuck his mouth. Phil pushes in slow, hissing when Clint’s bottom teeth just barely scrape the vein on the underside of his cock. 

“It’s like that, is it?” he asks, and Clint’s eyes are all challenge. Phil pulls Clint off his cock and pushes on his shoulder. Clint doesn’t give. Instead, he tries to lunge forward, but Phil anticipates and moves, pinning Clint to the ground with his knees on either side of his shoulders, Clint’s head propped up on the wall behind him. Clint grabs Phil’s ass and hauls him forward, arching his back when Phil’s cock is back in his mouth.

“Goddamnit,” Phil mutters. He braces one hand on the wall and thrusts. Clint sucks harder, bobbing his head back and forth with what little room he has. He moves his hands, pressing his thumbs hard against Phil’s hipbones. His mouth makes a wet, obscene popping noise when Phil arches back to pull his cock free.

“Quit teasing,” Clint grumbles, trying to get enough leverage to get up, but Phil presses in harder with his knees, and Clint can’t power his way up.

“I’m not teasing,” Phil says, gripping his cock and stroking. He grits his teeth and arches his back, and Clint leans as far forward as he can, hands dropping to Phil’s thighs, pulling him closer, biceps standing out in stark relief as he uses everything he’s got to get to Phil’s cock again.

“Come on,” Clint groans. He sticks out his tongue and just manages to lick the head. Phil jerks forward, and Clint gets his lips over the crown for a second before Phil backs away again. “Do it,” Clint orders, his voice a growl. “Come on, Phil, you know you want to come all over me. You want to come right in my mouth.”

Phil can’t manage words. He leans forward just enough that his cock touches Clint’s lip. Clint laps at the head, still fighting to pull Phil closer, but Phil keeps himself braced with his hand on the wall.

“Come on,” Clint grates out. “Come on me, Sir.”

Phil groans, the sound rumbling up from his chest, and then he’s coming. Some of it makes it into Clint’s mouth, and the rest stripes his face, coating his left cheekbone and landing in his hair. Phil slumps forward when he’s finished, adjusting his position so his legs are on either side of Clint’s ribcage. “Give me a sec—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clint says, one hand wrapping over Phil’s around his now-soft cock, the other going to his uniform pants.

Phil listens to him open them, grins at Clint’s swear as he maneuvers the cup out of his jock and throws it across the room. Clint let’s go of Phil’s cock and works his hand up Phil’s shirt, yanking until the buttons fly off and he can get to Phil’s nipple through his undershirt.

“Fuck,” Phil breathes as aftershocks rock through him. He throws his other hand up on the wall to keep himself from collapsing, sensory overload setting in as Clint rubs the pad of his thumb over Phil’s areole and grunts as he comes.

Their breathing is ragged and loud, half-a-beat out of sync, and it’s only when Phil can’t hear his blood rushing in his ears that he finally moves and slumps down to Clint’s left side. Clint rolls to face him, brings up his come-covered hand, and wipes it across Phil’s undershirt.

“Marking your territory?” Phil murmurs, licking his thumb and drawing it across Clint’s cheekbone where his come is drying.

“You went first,” Clint points out. He catches Phil’s thumb as Phil trails it by his lips, licks the edge of Phil’s nail and lets go.

“We have got to stop having angry post-op sex,” Phil says. “It’s just going to give you a reason to keep being insubordinate.”

“I didn’t run late on purpose.”

“I know,” Phil tells him, and he does. Clint doesn’t pull shit for attention; he does what he’s feel is right, and Phil knows Clint was five seconds late because he was desperately seeking visual proof that Phil hadn’t been caught in the crossfire, not getting on comm because there was no way he’d sound professional asking for a stat-check.

“I’ll do it again,” Clint says. 

Phil smiles at that, appreciating the bone-deep contentment that settles in him. “I know.”

“And you’ll do the same.”

Phil’s not sure if he means the frantic search or the angry sex they just had, but he knows he’ll do both again, so he just hums in agreement.


End file.
